


When Cullen Met Maxwell

by Moonrose91



Series: The Victorious Age AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Blood Magic, But no guns, Cursed Scars, Depression in Background, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Magical Scars, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queerplatonic Relationships, Technically it is modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonrose91/pseuds/Moonrose91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were torn on what to call it; the Kirkwall Revolution or the Kirkwall Rebellion.</p><p>(Former) Knight-Commander Meredith had been corrupt, abused her power, and enacted martial law without the authority to do so.</p><p>Garret Hawke and those who had sided with him had fought against the oppression.</p><p>Cullen had been one of them.</p><p>But after the Kinloch Hold incident, after Kirkwall, Cullen is done with the Templar Order and is leaving.</p><p>He's not expecting to meet anyone on the way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Victorious Age 21:37, Harvestmere 7 to Harvestmere 8

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. This looks really bad because I literally, just today, talked about how I don't have a lot of energy and whatnot. I feel a little bad about that, but at the same time, I am also too tired to feel that bad.
> 
> And after I post this, I get to go take my remaining energy and eat.
> 
> ANYWAY!!!!
> 
> MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS!!!!!
> 
> HAVE FANFIC!!!!
> 
> COMPLETED FANFIC!!!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Blood Magic Ritual stuff and magical scar things

The White Spire Healing Ward was large and sprawling, the common area with floor to ceiling windows that were clear, though they could be tinted against the glare later in the day (or maybe they were tinted now, it wasn’t like Cullen would notice from this side of the glass), and had every sort of distraction needed. Books, games, and Cullen was just staring blankly at chessboard in front of him, wondering if he had been out long enough that he could go back to his room without being dragged back out.

He had only been at the White Spire Healing Ward for two weeks and he had spent most of it in his recovery room right until Anders (he was a Spirit Healer with Justice attached to him, and Cullen didn’t really get the relationship between a Spirit Healer and “their” Spirit, just that it was a relationship of a sort, and had followed Cullen to White Spire instead of staying at Kirkwall) had marched in, grabbed him and dragged him out into the common area. It had gotten Anders yelled at, but it made Cullen laugh because Anders was treating him as he always had, not like he was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

Even if he felt like he was going to.

Anders had looked so smugly proud of the fact he got Cullen to laugh before he went back to his duties and Cullen knew if he didn’t spend enough time around people, Anders would just drag him back out again.

“Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford?” a voice called and he looked up with a frown.

“That’s not my title anymore,” he called and blinked in surprise when he saw that a female Elven Spirit Healer from the Blood Magic Recovery Floor (the black trim on the otherwise pale blue robes told him that; it was the same no matter where they were stationed) was walking toward him.

“Apologies. I am Spirit Healer Amery, of the Blood Magic Recovery Floor. Can you come with me please Mr. Rutherford?” she asked, black hair in tight braids down her skull in neat rows and Cullen stood up slowly.

“Why?” he asked and she sighed a little, worrying the sleeve of her robes with dark brown fingers idly.

“We need your help on the Blood Magic Recovery Floor,” she explained and Cullen waved his hand out slightly.

“Lead the way Spirit Healer Amery,” Cullen answered and she smiled at him, briefly, before she turned and lead the way.

* * *

Cullen had once spent two months in Blood Magic Recovery following the Incident of Kinloch Hold.

He had been saved in the middle of being prepared for the same ritual that had taken his fellow Templars.

The Blood Magic Recovery Floor in the White Spire was nearly identical to the one in Denerim.

He pushed that thought from his mind as they come to a room in the corner at the back and Spirit Healer Amery opened the door enough to poke her head in. “Enchanter Trevelyan?” she called

“That’s not my title,” Trevelyan responded.

“Apologies. I’ve brought you one of our other patients from a different floor. He likes to chess and he needs a partner and since you aren’t cleared for the common area, though you _are_ cleared for visitors, I brought him up to meet you. Would you like to meet him?” she inquired.

There was a soft chuckle from inside the room. “You just don’t want me wandering round in my head,” he stated and Spirit Healer Amery hummed a little.

“Is that a yes or a no?” she asked.

“I would like to meet your chess player Spirit Healer Amery,” Trevelyan stated and Spirit Healer Amery snorted.

“He’s not my anything,” she stated and opened the door fully, showing off the sunny room in soft colors that seemed to fill the room with light and Cullen followed her in.

The room was open, with a desk and chair tucked under the TV, a window-seat that was practically a couch, and a large chair that looked very soft near the bed, along with one of a rolling tables that had locking wheels. Cullen let his eyes dart quickly around, before they fell back on the human man in the bed. One, two, quick glances, and Cullen knew why she had come looking for _him_ specifically.

The man, who was propped up in a sitting position, with brown hair cut military short, bandages wrapped around his hands (mostly avoiding the fingers), and up his arms, though avoiding his wrists. Cullen vaguely wondered if there were other injuries that Cullen couldn’t see between the man being covered with a blanket from the waist down and one of the backless gowns provided by those who were staying for injury related reasons (as opposed to the scrubs Cullen wore under his bathrobe given to those at the White Spire Healing Ward for psychiatric reasons), before he pushed the thought to the side. It wasn’t his position to wonder, just…be there, maybe.

“Cullen Rutherford, this is Maxwell Trevelyan. Cullen, Maxwell. I’ll go get you two a chessboard,” Spirit Healer Amery introduced as she moved a table to the right side of the bed so it was easy for Maxwell to reach.

She then walked out of the room and Cullen shuffled on his slippered feet, feeling oddly…exposed. He was the one fully dressed, so he shouldn’t feel so…

“Take a seat Mr. Rutherford,” Maxwell stated and Cullen murmured his thanks before he dragged a chair over to sit.

“You must have come in at the same time as I did,” Cullen stated.

“Oh?” Maxwell questioned and Cullen rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Yeah. It takes about two weeks before someone gets cleared after an interrupted Blood Magic Ritual once they’ve been admitted and cleared for not being a thrall,” Cullen answered.

“Personal experience?” Maxwell asked dully and Cullen hesitated before he pushed up his left sleeves and put his pale white arm on the table, showing the oval with two horns curling from it.

The scar was red, as if it had been made yesterday, though Cullen knew it had been made near Lake Calenhad seven years ago, more or less. “Well, shit, no wonder she went and got you,” Maxwell stated and Cullen gave a strained laugh as he pulled his sleeves back down.

“How long you had that?” Maxwell asked.

“Seven years,” Cullen answered.

“Well, fuck,” Maxwell muttered and pressed tawny-brown fingers to the pale blue gown, around his collarbones.

Before Cullen could ask, Spirit Healer Amery returned and Maxwell quickly yanked his right hand away from his gown. “Spirit Healer Amery, is that _your_ chessboard?” Maxwell asked and Cullen immediately began to admire the finely crafted chessboard that also doubled as a box to hold the chess pieces.

“You _know_ it is Mr. Trevelyan. I figure none of the pieces will go wandering off,” she answered as she carefully set the board down and Cullen immediately began to let his fingers dart over the polished handles that opened the drawers.

“I’ll leave the door open,” she called and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind her.

Cullen opened the drawer and picked up a white pawn, followed by a black pawn and held his hands under the table before he moved them from hand to hand and lifted clenched fists out to Maxwell.

Maxwell gave a small snort and tapped Cullen’s left hand, revealing the black pawn all the darker against Cullen’s pale skin.

“Black is yours,” Cullen stated and Maxwell gave a gentle smile as Cullen quickly set up the board properly.

* * *

They were on their fourth game when Cullen looked up to find that Maxwell had fallen asleep. Cullen shifted slightly, about to stand up when Spirit Healer Amery looked in. “He asleep?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Cullen answered and she let out a sigh of relief before she walked in, followed by Anders, who grinned a little before hooking his fingers into the collar of Cullen’s robe.

“Let’s go. Time for your psychiatric appointment,” he greeted softly and began to drag Cullen out.

“I can go on my own,” Cullen argued quietly as Anders led him to the elevators.

“You _can_ , but would you? They’re practically ordered if you want to keep your stipend after being discharged from the Templar Special Forces,” Anders answered cheerfully.

“Besides, you are one of my friends, Cullen. You risked a great deal to help us and, had it been decided you were the one in the wrong, you would have been dishonorably discharged. I want to make sure they don’t find a reason to not give you what you’ve _earned_ ,” Anders added softly as the elevator doors slid open before them.

Cullen stared as Anders carefully pulled him into the elevator, even if it made his fingers shake against the back of Cullen’s neck.

He doesn’t hesitate to gently remove Anders’s fingers and carefully pushed the ‘open doors’ button with one hand while he held onto one of Anders’s hands with his own. “I’ll see you on the ground floor,” Cullen promised with a squeeze to Anders’s hand.

Anders gave a nod and stepped back, Cullen releasing the button to allow the elevator doors to close between them.

* * *

Cullen stared at the chessboard in front of him in the common area before he packed it up (ignoring the sick feeling he got when he saw the ‘Made in Tevinter’ printed on the box), put it away, and headed up to the Blood Magic Recovery Floor.

Spirit Healer Amery just handed him her chessboard and Cullen walked to Maxwell’s room. He stepped in with a quick knock and he smiled when Maxwell looked over at him.

“Cullen,” Maxwell responded slowly.

“We didn’t finish our fourth game yesterday,” Cullen stated.

The TV in the corner flicked off (the news, sound off, subtitles on) and Maxwell waved his hand to the table. “If you can remember the board,” he offered and Cullen quickly set up the board to yesterday’s game.

“Your move,” Cullen offered as he sat down and Maxwell shook his head a little before he moved the Queen’s Mage to take Cullen’s King’s Knight.


	2. Chapter Two: Victorious Age 21:37 Harvestmere 9 – 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Copper pieces = coppers (Fereldan), pennies (Orlais), bits (slang) [modern day cents]
> 
> Silver pieces = silvers (Fereldan), crowns (Orlais) [modern day ones and tens place]
> 
> Gold Pieces = sovereigns (Fereldan), royals (Orlais) [modern day 100s & 1000s place]
> 
> Strands = universal; above gold pieces [modern day 10,000s-100,000s place]
> 
> Bars = universal; above strands [1 bar = 1 million and above place]
> 
> 100 CP = 1 SP
> 
> 100 SP = 1 GP
> 
> 100 GP = 1 Strand
> 
> 100 Strands = 1 Bar
> 
> (Example; 4,359.13 = 43 gold pieces, 59 silver pieces, and 13 copper pieces)

Cullen goes again the next day the moment visiting hours begin.

He paused to borrow Spirit Healer Amery’s chessboard and she smiled at him as she handed it over before he continued to the room. He knocked on the door with his elbow and entered the room as Maxwell turned off the news (once again sound off, subtitles on). “Want to play again?” Cullen asked and Maxwell waved a hand to the chair and table still set up from yesterday.

Cullen holds out his hands to Maxwell, and Maxwell tapped Cullen’s right hand, once again getting the black pawn.

* * *

The next day is Sunday, Cullen realized as they wrapped up their third game.

“Do you want to do this tomorrow?” Cullen asked.

“If you don’t mind,” Maxwell responded and Cullen shook his head.

“I don’t mind. I will just be later tomorrow. I am a practicing Andrastian, Fereldan Andrastian specifically, not that matters outside of when services are held, and the services are tomorrow. I always…stay a little later after the services,” Cullen explained and Maxwell nodded.

“Used to be Ostwick Andrastian myself. Thursday night services, for whatever reason. Personally, I think it was just to be contrary,” Maxwell offered as he shifted so he could set up the board this time.

“Used to be?” Cullen asked and Maxwell gave a small shrug.

“Sometimes, what we lose faith in is other people,” Maxwell answered apathetically.

Cullen let it go and focused back on the chessboard. “Why am I black?” Cullen asked.

“Loser gets to pick color, remember? And I lost,” Maxwell stated and Cullen chuckled as Maxwell moved his Queen’s pawn forward two spaces.

* * *

It became routine after that.

Cullen began to talk about his family. His parents and siblings, about how he always forgot to call his sister to tell her he was okay and one day he fully expected her to murder him. “You should call her more,” Maxwell said, after that particular statement and Cullen looked at him from over the chessboard.

“She cares about you. Not…not everyone has someone who cares about them enough to threaten to kill them,” Maxwell stated and Cullen nodded a little in agreement.

“Of course. I just…I don’t like making her worry,” Cullen explained.

“She’ll worry anyway,” Maxwell stated and Cullen just nodded, setting his King to the side.

“I’ll be right back,” he stated and Maxwell waved his hand at him as Cullen left the room.

He had to endure five minutes of Mia yelling at him, but he deserved it.

When he got back to the room, Maxwell was either asleep, or pretending to be. Cullen just packed up the chessboard and returned it to Spirit Healer Amery before heading to the common area to stare out the window.

* * *

“I have a baby sister,” Maxwell stated as he moved his Queen’s Tower to protect his King’s Knight.

“Oh?” Cullen questioned as he moved his King’s Mage to intercept the play.

“Yes. I write letters to her. Easier to keep in contact that way, when on active duty. Are we ever off-duty, when either a Templar or a Circle Mage?” Maxwell answered.

“It certainly never felt that way. Malificarum could be anywhere, it felt like. Especially in places like the Free Marches or out in the Hinterlands. Kinloch Hold was just our base and…well, one of the Circle Mages was a blood mage,” Cullen stated and Maxwell hissed slightly.

Cullen darted a glance along the injuries he could see, before up to Maxwell’s face and settled on it being a hiss of sympathy. “I imagine that overall it didn’t end well?” Maxwell hedged.

“Not one bit. The Veil was already thin within the Tower from something that happened in the Dragon Age. It is practically half _in_ the Fade now,” Cullen answered as Maxwell moved his King’s Knight against Cullen’s King’s Mage.

What was he doing?

“I can think of a few Fade Researchers that would want to camp out there for just that reason,” Maxwell commented.

“Some _were_ , when I left,” Cullen stated and Maxwell let out a quiet chuckle as Cullen moved a pawn forward.

“Magical researchers. Insane bunch,” Maxwell stated and Cullen nodded in agreement, even as Maxwell moved his Queen’s Tower.

“Check,” Maxwell stated and Cullen groaned.

* * *

“Where did you train?” Cullen asked as he set up the board.

“Here. The White Spire. While attending classes at the University of Orlais, and looking back at it now, surprised I actually managed to get my Bachelors in Art History, finish training, and get assigned without snapping under all the pressure. Might be why they assigned me to Ostwiick,” Maxwell answered.

“Not Kirkwall?” Cullen questioned and Maxwell frowned slightly.

“It…Ostwick had ambush problems. Whole teams, Circles and Orders alike, would be hit and either downed completely or dismantled. Problems that weren’t…a cult. Suspected cult,” Maxwell explained and his fingers flicked against one of his pawn pieces before he moved it distractedly.

“They picked me because I was very _very_ good at being a Circle Mage,” he added and Cullen moved his Queen’s Knight through the ranks.

“What do you mean?” Cullen asked and Maxwell inhaled softly, mirroring Cullen’s move with his Queen’s Knight.

“No matter who you are, Knight-Enchanter or Spirit Healer, being part of a Circle to a Templar Order is about doing as much damage as you can while still keeping your pinpoint precision. It is merciless. You can’t hesitate, can’t do anything beyond split-moment analysis and reaction. You _can’t_ …it is hard and unrelenting and your magic is probably going to be useless for anything but fighting after, unless you get some other training during to keep you gentle,” Maxwell as Cullen moved a pawn one square forward.

“You should meet Anders,” Cullen stated and Maxwell glanced at him before he focused back on the board.

“Oh?” Maxwell murmured.

“He’s a Spirit Healer, but the Spirit he’s bonded with is Justice. He might have some ideas on how to help with the…magic issue,” Cullen stated and Maxwell let out an interested sound.

“I have never heard of a Spirit of Justice joining with a Spirit Healer,” Maxwell stated as he moved his Queen’s Knight.

“I hadn’t ever heard of any other spirit but a Faith spirit joining with a Spirit Healer before I met Anders,” Cullen explained as he moved another pawn.

He didn’t think Maxwell had a strategy and Maxwell let out a humorless laugh.

Cullen lifted his head to stare at Maxwell, who was only staring at the board. “The Spirit Healer with my attachment was with a Spirit of Hope. Hope, I’ve been told, is fragile. A cold breath will snuff it out in a moment. They killed him and…Hope went into his body, and ripped through them all to get to the outside. Came back, leading the rescue mission. Almost too late,” Maxwell continued and his eyes jumped from piece to piece on the board.

Maxwell sighed and reached out, laying the King down on the board. “I forfeit,” Maxwell stated and leaned back on the bed, closing his eyes.

“All right,” Cullen answered and packed the chessboard away, carrying it away with him.

* * *

“Why do you keep coming here?” Maxwell asked as Cullen set up the chessboard the next day.

He looked up, surprised to find Maxwell staring at the wall, not at Cullen. “Because if it is out of pity, I don’t want it,” he added tightly.

“It isn’t out of pity,” Cullen stated and Maxwell fisted the sheets.

“I was once stuck in a bed like that. Not as long as you, but I was still stuck in it. And when I wasn’t stuck in it anymore, I went to the common area where I stared out a window because I was getting tired of seeing the same four walls surround me. I was recovering from an interrupted Blood Ritual, not one as far along as yours, but it was still there. And no one came to visit me or give me reprieve out of my head because I didn’t want anyone to see me how I was. I was ashamed that it had happened. And I wish to the Maker every day that I hadn’t been so stubborn, hadn’t shoved people away. That someone had been there when all I wanted to do was crawl out of my head. And now I have friends, one of which refuses to let me stay holed up anywhere, even if I was transferred away from them. So, I am doing this, because I wish someone had done it for me. And I will do it, even if you yell at me to leave. Because everyone needs someone to keep them out of their head when their mind is trying to drown them,” Cullen continued and he held out his hands gently, closed loosely around two pawns.

There was silence and Maxwell swallowed before he closed his eyes, hands tightening on the sheets. “Right,” he choked out.

Cullen turned over the right hand to reveal the white pawn. “White is yours,” Cullen said.

* * *

It is the day before Santinalia and he knows that all the gifts he’s sent will be on time, either delivered yesterday or today.

He was in the gift shop now, trying to decide between one of two cat figurines for Anders when his eyes fell on _The Viper’s Nest_ by Varric Tethras on a spinning book stand near the shelves of animal figurines.

It was a cheap paperback, with a female Elf on the cover, tan skin, black hair in a long braid that’s whipping over her shoulder, wearing jeans and a white button up shirt, untucked, a vest over it, a messenger bag over her shoulder, wielding a pair of daggers, as she stood in a, literal, pit of vipers.

Cullen picked up the orange tabby figurine before he turned to the stand and picked up the book. He turned it over, reading the blurb on the back before he turned back to the cover and then shrugged a little.

Maybe Maxwell would like the book.

It would at least give him something to do beyond watch the news on the TV.

Cullen had barely set the items on the counter when an alarm went off. He spun, mind racing, hand flying to where a sword once rested, but rested no longer, and he stilled, panting for breath as he watched two Templars rush toward the stairway.

“What is that?” Cullen panted out.

“No idea,” the Dwarven cashier stated, blonde beard clipped to follow his jawline.

“Right, orange tabby cat figurine, sitting looking all smugly superior, and _The Viper’s Nest_. That’ll be 36 Crowns and 30 Pennies,” the Dwarf stated and Cullen fumbled for his wallet and pulled out his credit card as the alarm slowly died down above them.


	3. Chapter Three: Victorious Age 21:37 Firstfall 1 to 16

Anders stared down at the gift-shop bag stuffed the rough sandpaper facial tissues all healing wards gave people, then back up at Cullen, a little frown on his face. “Just open it,” Cullen said and Anders frowned a bit more.

“Are these your facial tissues?” he asked and Cullen sighed heavily.

“I didn’t have anything else to cover it in. I promise it was a fresh box. Please open it? It is your Satinalia present and if you don’t open it soon, I am going to be late to Satinalia service,” Cullen answered and Anders sighed, but did as asked, only to still slightly.

“Ser Pounce-A-Lot, right? You said he was an orange tabby. I wa-oof,” Cullen began to explain, rubbing the back of his neck, only for Anders to practically leap on him in a hug.

Cullen hugged Anders back one armed. “I didn’t get you anything,” Anders mumbled.

“That’s all right,” Cullen stated as Anders gripped him a little tighter in a hug.

* * *

Services on Satinalia always were odd, for Cullen.

Where Cullen had grown up, when Satinalia fell on a Sunday, they had the Sunday service first, and immediately after, everyone went to go party and exchange gifts. It was insane and beautiful and people generally forgot what the service was about five seconds out the door, especially the children, who got free sweets if they showed off a trick.

Cullen still knew some sleight of hand, even if he didn’t practice as much anymore.

It was more…somber in Kirkwall, and with the lack of food. Even the cheapest foods had strained budgets. Darktown had swelled with people as they were slowly driven from their homes as people had to choose between food and rent.

How Garret had managed to keep his family fed and clothed with a roof over their head (and Gamlan certainly hadn’t been a help) before he found his fortune in the Deep Roads enough to buy back the Amell Family Home had been…something Cullen wasn’t sure how he did it, and to this day, Cullen is sure it wasn’t how he said he had done it.

Cullen pushed the button for the elevator and waited patiently as he resisted the urge to mess with the book, instead settling to rub the back of his neck with his hand.

The elevator doors opened before him and he stepped onto the elevator, starting to pace in the small space.

What if the book is the wrong present to give him?

Maxwell’s hands are injured, but he might be able to prop it up, turn the pages. Cullen chewed on the inside of his cheek and made sure to keep his grip loose on the book as the elevator came to a halt and Cullen stepped off onto the Blood Ritual Recovery Floor.

He barely took two steps before he was stopped by Spirit Healer Amery, who carefully placed a hand on Cullen’s bicep. “I’m sorry Mr. Rutherford, but Mr. Trevelyan can’t have visitors today,” Spirit Healer Amery stated sadly.

“Did something happen?” he asked quietly and she sighed softly, shoulders slumping.

“I can’t tell you. I’ll call your room when he can have visitors again,” she stated and Cullen nodded before he held out the book.

“Can you give this to Maxwell for me? And tell him I said ‘Happy Satinalia’?” Cullen asked and she took the book from him with a small nod.

“I will do that,” she promised and Cullen smiled back at her before he turned and pushed at the button, the elevator opening immediately before him.

* * *

Anders sighed and pat Cullen’s back. “If he was dead, she would have told you,” Anders stated.

“That’s really not reassuring,” Cullen retorted as he moved one of the cheap chess pieces forward on the board.

“Are you playing against yourself?” Anders asked.

“You flip the board when you get frustrated,” Cullen answered.

“I’m calling for an intervention,” Anders stated and Cullen snorted as he took the black Pawn with the white King’s Knight.

* * *

The phone rang in Cullen’s room shortly before he was going to leave for Sunday service and he picked it up. “Rutherford,” he stated.

“Mr. Rutherford, this is Spirit Healer Amery. Mr. Trevelyan can have visitors again,” she stated and Cullen blinked a little.

He frowned slightly.

Two weeks, exactly.

What had happened?

“I’ll be down after Fereldan Andrastian services,” Cullen promised.

* * *

“Happy Satinalia,” Maxwell stated as he held a box that filled his palm up to Cullen.

His arm was trembling and he wasn’t looking at Cullen.

Cullen didn’t hesitate to place the chess set on the table before taking it. “Thank you. Were you able to read the book?” Cullen answered.

Maxwell was still trembling and his eyes seemed sunken slightly. “Yes. Thank you. I had never read anything by that author before and I enjoyed it. I’m rereading it,” Maxwell answered tiredly and Cullen sat down on the chair.

“Glad you enjoy…” Cullen answered, but trailed off when he saw red spotting through some of the bandages along Maxwell’s left under-forearm.

“You’re bleeding through,” he stated and Maxwell muttered a quiet fuck before he pushed the button, Cullen already standing back up.

“I’ll come back in after you get your bandages changed,” Cullen stated and Maxwell nodded a little.

He is out in the hallway when he opened the box and found a folded paper flower inside it, colors curling and racing over the white surface.

* * *

Maxwell’s fingers trembled and Spirit Healer Amery is in and out the entire time.

They only make it through one and a half games before Maxwell passed out.

* * *

“Garret and Varric are coming to visit next week,” Anders stated cheerfully as Cullen stepped off the elevator onto the main floor.

“Why?” Cullen asked carefully.

“To visit _us_ of course. That and you’re going to be released sometime next week. I have annoying people for information so I stop annoying them down to an art form,” Anders responded cheerfully and Cullen sighed.

“This is the intervention, isn’t it?” Cullen questioned.

“Now, would I do that to you?” Anders asked.

“Yes,” Cullen stated and Anders laughed before he began to drag Cullen off to his psychiatric appointment.

* * *

Maxwell is reading the book when Cullen entered his room the next day and Maxwell looked up before he gave a small smile and as he carefully put a bookmark into place.

Cullen can see where the spine has been bent, carefully, and Cullen watched as Maxwell just set it down on his other side. “I think I fell asleep in the middle of our second game yesterday,” he stated.

“You did, but you looked like you needed it,” Cullen answered and Maxwell snorted.

“Thanks Cullen. You remember the board?” Maxwell asked.

“Yes,” Cullen responded and began to set up the board.

Maxwell shifted so he could reach the board easier and frowned a little. “My turn,” Cullen supplied and moved his Queen’s Mage.

Maxwell nodded and moved his Queen, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“I…have no idea what I was thinking when moving this around,” he stated and Cullen chuckled as he had his Queen’s Mage take Maxwell’s King’s Knight, earning a soft curse from the man.

Cullen looked up at him, taking in how drained he still looked. “What happened?” Cullen asked without meaning to and Maxwell sighed, moving his Queen to take Cullen’s King’s Knight.

“My…cuts, my marks, they all flared up. Opened up, as if they were just recently cut. They managed to find the source. Turns out one of the people on the recovery floor was a blood mage. Irony,” Maxwell answered and Cullen winced in sympathy as he took Maxwell’s Queen.

“Shit,” Maxwell cursed and Cullen smiled.

They stopped after that half game, Maxwell exhausted and having broth, probably laced with healing potion, shoved at him by Spirit Healer Amery.

“Tomorrow?” Cullen asked and Maxwell nodded tiredly.

“Tomorrow,” he agreed.

* * *

Cullen rubbed his neck as he paced in his room that night.

It was late, but Varric was always up around now, in The Hanged Man. Even if he had started travelling _today_ with Garret, he would probably still be up and, if nothing else, Cullen would be able to leave a message or call tomorrow.

He nodded slightly and sat on the bed, lifted his phone from the cradle and dialed for an outside line.

He drummed his fingers nervously against the side table as the call connected. “Varric Tethras,” the Dwarf greeted and Cullen let out a sigh of relief.

“Varric, it is Cullen,” he answered.

“Curly!” Varric exclaimed jovially, and in the background he could hear Isabela shout, “Cullen!”

Still at The Hanged Man then.

“I…” Cullen stated and then stopped.

“Hold up,” Varric stated and the background slowly died as Cullen clenched at the phone.

“All right, what’s up Curly?” Varric asked.

“I need a favor. Not an underworld favor, just…a favor,” Cullen answered.

“I would prefer you asking me for an underworld favor,” Varric stated.

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s the favor?” Varric asked.

“I need copies of everything you’ve ever had published, autographed,” Cullen answered.

“No. I will not subject anyone to that. Do you hate them?” Varric argued.

“Varric, I’ve read everything you’ve written, except _The Tale of the Champion_ , because that’s not been published but I know it will be. Because…never mind. But I did, at first, just to see and I _hate_ Crime Dramas, because I live in one it feels like, and I don’t really like Romances, I did like your writing style and I’ve reread them! Even though I don’t like those genres! Please, Varric, it is for…someone stuck here, on the Blood Ritual Recovery Floor. Can’t leave the room till released as being a non-threat,” Cullen begged quietly.

“Curly, I am going to be sending you a copy of _The Tale of the Champion_ because I talk about you in it. And I’m going to add in the fact you _liked_ them says something about your poor taste,” Varric argued.

“Varric. I _hate_ Crime Dramas and I _re-read yours_! Even _The Dasher’s Men_! I’m going to tell Bethany on you if you keep trying to keep yourself down. And also, everyone here is talking about your books. All of them. Even your _Swords and Shields_ series. The one Aveline still wants to murder you over. Anders brings me gossip!” Cullen argued and let out a long sigh.

“Please Varric. He’s rereading _The Viper’s Nest_ ,” he continued.

“Who gave him that?” Varric asked.

“It was the only book I recognized on the spinning book shelf thing in the gift shop, all right?” Cullen grumbled.

“Curly, you are a cruel, cruel, man. I shouldn’t do this to that poor soul,” Varric stated.

“Varric, I will ask Garret to ask for me,” Cullen warned.

There is silence and a sigh. “I take it back. _Now_ you are a cruel _vicious_ man,” Varric stated and sighed again.

“Fine, I’ll bring them with me next week to deliver to this mystery person. You realize this means I get to sign them ‘To Curly’s Friend, who has no idea how cruel and vicious the ex-Templar really is you poor soul. With great sympathy and surprise, Varric Tethras’,” he added.

“Don’t you dare Varric,” Cullen said.

“Too late Curly! It is done! You’ve brought it on yourself!” Varric exclaimed and chuckled a little.

“Look, at ease Curly, I’m really not going to call you cruel and heartless,” Varric said, and Cullen interrupted him, “You said vicious.”

“ _Cruel and heartless_ ,” Varric reiterated before he chuckled again.

“Look, not going to _actually_ write that to someone in a Blood Ritual Recovery room, all right? They don’t need that. But I’ll bring it. But that was underhanded, bringing Waffles into this,” Varric said.

“I’ve been getting lessons from Isabela, but I wouldn’t have actually brought in Garret,” Cullen answered.

“Oh? Huh. Well, I’ve already agreed,” Varric stated.

“Garret doesn’t need more tugging in directions. He does that enough between everyone else. Literally everyone else,” Cullen stated and Varric sighed heavily.

“And that’s the real reason you and him are coming to visit,” he continued.

“Don’t tell Waffles, but yes. You, Anders, and I rarely disagree about anything. It’ll…give him a break. It isn’t like Sunshine and Junior _help_ , they just add to it, especially…well, you know about that. You helped get rid of the Blood Mage responsible, but seriously, you’d think…” Varric stated and let out an annoyed sound.

Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll be back in Kirkwall as soon as I get told I can go home,” he stated.

“Yeah, but you and Garret acting as our peacekeepers constantly? That’s bad for you too, Curly,” Varric stated and Cullen gave a shrug.

“Well, I’ll let you go beat Isabela at Wicked Grace,” Cullen stated and Varric laughed.

“Optimism, from you Curly? The world must be ending,” Varric stated.

“Night Varric,” Cullen stated.

“Night Curly. Tell Blondie he still owes me two Royals,” Varric stated and Cullen chuckled before he hung up.

He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face.

The room is quiet, now that the conversation is over.

He rarely went to The Hanged Man, not till Meredith had been ousted.

Revolution, those of Kirkwall had called it.

Rebellion had been hissed right back at them.

Survival had been the main goal for everyone, and sometimes people ducked their heads against injustices and looked away.

Anders wasn’t a Circle Mage, but he _was_ a certified Spirit Healer and he had been given leave to work in the White Spire, but only after Cullen had woken up using a Smite on the Spirit Healer because he had been going through lyrium withdrawal.

He had run out, but it wasn’t out of his system yet when it happened. A punishment handed down to him from Meredith and him going _insane_ and--

He had sensed magic that wasn’t _Anders_ , held a ring of Faith, not Justice, and he had reacted as if in a battleground.

It hadn’t happened since he began to receive lyrium draughts again, but he knew once he was officially honorably discharged, once that all got cleared, he would be cold nug on it, and he would be back in Kirkwall by then.

He was going to be dragged through the Void and he sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair.

Right.

That was the future.

Pointless to worry about the future.

Tonight, he would just go to sleep and tomorrow he would play chess and somewhere in the middle of all of that, he would maybe try to find something to read.

The news made his stomach twist and he wasn’t ‘up-to-date’ on any TV shows, so they held no interest for him.

He sighed and laid back in the bed and tried to fall asleep.

It took a while.


	4. Chapter Four: Victorious Age 21:37 Firstfall 23

Cullen nearly ripped the book he was reading ( _Separating Fact from Myth of Inquisitor Trevelyan_ ) when his door slammed open, followed by a pale white blond haired, beardless Dwarf dressed in a red dress shirt open to reveal ample chest hair, brown dress pants with boots, and a leather coat that had seen better days. “Up and at ‘em Curly! We’re here to break you out!” Varric greeted loudly.

Anders, dressed in civilian clothes of faded jeans, cheap boots that are being held together with silver tape, and a blue plaid button up with different buttons, his paler blond hair pulled back into a high horsetail, sighed as followed Varric into the room.

Cullen was suddenly thankful he was in a chair and not on his bed. His room mirrored Maxwell’s, down to the furniture, and he panted softly. “Maker’s _breath_ Varric!” Cullen exclaimed.

“He doesn’t need to be broken out,” Anders stated as Garret, dressed in the workmen’s boots he wore as a Fereldan refugee, jeans tucked into the tops, and a turtleneck, followed quietly, which had Cullen focusing on him.

Varric, however, was shoving a bag of clothes into his face and Cullen groaned, trying to fight his way back out from behind the bag as Varric insisted on keeping it there. “You’re getting revenge, aren’t you?” Cullen asked and Varric chuckled.

“Now what makes you think that Curly?” Varric asked before he yelped as he was dragged away from Cullen by Anders, the blue cracks along his skin altering Cullen to the fact Justice is aiding him.

“I’ll give you my address after you dress,” Anders stated.

“What?” Cullen asked.

“You’ve been released into my care, to be in the city. Just till the paperwork is officially cleared. How slow they are going, we should have an idea of how bad the withdrawal will be, as it will be a secondary withdrawal technically,” Anders answered and Cullen nodded, even as Garret shifted slightly.

“Withdrawal?” Garret asked softly.

“From the lyrium. How I have my abilities; through lyrium. Side-effects happen,” Cullen answered with a small shrug as he got up, heading to the bathroom to get dressed in actual clothes.

He didn’t want to talk about it.

Especially as _it_ had seemed like a perfectly good price to pay for doing some _good_ in this world, and then doing very little good at all.

Maker’s breath, he wanted to just do _something_ with his life that wasn’t going to end up with him aiding corruption and misery.

* * *

Maxwell raised an eyebrow as Cullen walked in dressed in faded blue jeans, worn yet solid sneakers, and a royal blue dress shirt, the top two buttons undone. “Released all ready?” Maxwell asked, for once seated in the plush chair, a blanket over his lap, and not the bed.

“From the hospital,” Cullen stated, grabbing the chair he usually sits in and drags it over so he can sit across from Maxwell.

Here, he could see the bandages around his feet, up his legs, avoiding his ankles much like his wrists had been avoided, and Maxwell huffed. “Lucky man,” he stated and Cullen gave a small shrug.

“How do you like _The Viper’s Nest_?” Cullen asked.

“Cullen, when I finally got around to reading it in full, I finished it one night and then reread it again. I finished it for the fourth time this morning. Any more by that author?” Maxwell responded and Cullen grinned.

“Oh yeah,” Cullen answered, resisting the urge to chuckle a little.

He was both surprised, and not, that Maxwell had no idea that Varric existed. From what he understood, he had thrown himself into school, being a Circle Mage, and his baby sister (Cullen now knew that he had four siblings in total, that he hated his parents, but until recently he had been apathetic to them, and he was no longer Andrastian, but never minded Cullen saying he would pray for him), and refused to let anything else in.

Except maybe the Spirit Healer of his Circle, but that was a suspicion, not something Maxwell had shared.

“I can do one better, if you feel up to one more visitor,” he stated and Maxwell smiled a little at him.

“All right. Surprise me,” Maxwell stated and Cullen smiled back before he carefully stood up.

He walked over to the door and he leaned out, smiling at where Spirit Healer Amery was keeping Varric Tethras waiting. “Maxwell said it was okay,” Cullen stated and he stepped back to watch as the Dwarf half-swaggered, half-walked, down the hallway, the paper bag hanging from the fingers of his left hand by the handles.

Garret Hawke had decided to wait for Varric in the common area with Anders.

He, understandably, wished to avoid the Blood Ritual Recovery Floor and Cullen stepped into the room to make way for Varric to enter. “Wow Curly, I was honestly expecting a girl with the way you threatened to sic Waffles on me,” Varric stated and Cullen chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, while Maxwell stared, his jaw dropping slightly before he snapped out of it to glare at Cullen.

“If it wouldn’t make my palm bleed, I would hit you,” he threatened and Cullen laughed softly as Varric walked over, setting the bag on the nearest table.

“Varric Tethras, author,” he introduced, but didn’t offer his hand.

Maxwell gave a nervous laugh. “Maxwell Trevelyan,” he answered, fiddling with the edge of the blanket over his lap and Varric grinned.

“Curly tells me that you like my books,” Varric stated.

“I only…have read the one. The rest of yours are always checked out, or stolen, from the White Spire library. I know, I’ve been asking. But I like your style. Generally that’s how I pick books to like. The author’s style,” Maxwell answered and Varric chuckled a little.

“Well, all right then,” Varric stated and waved to the paper bag.

“That’s every book I’ve ever had published and I just signed, ‘To Curly’s Friend, from Varric Tethras’, but I can cross out the ‘Curly’s Friend’ part and put your name,” Varric stated and Maxwell gave a small laugh as he shook his head a little.

“I’m good being known as _Curly’s_ Friend,” Maxwell answered and Varric laughed while Cullen let out a sigh.

“I like you Maxwell,” Varric said and Maxwell just smiled a bit.

“Right, well, I am going to go head down and get Waffles out of here. We’ll see you for dinner Curly,” Varric stated and waved as he walked back out while Cullen shook his head at Varric’s back.

“So… _Curly_?” Maxwell asked, laughter in his voice and Cullen groaned, covering his face.

“Maker’s breath, Maxwell, no!” Cullen exclaimed and Maxwell laughed, before he carefully moved the bag of books to the floor.

“Set up the chess board _Curly_ ,” Maxwell demanded playfully and Cullen groaned a little, but did as ‘demanded’.

* * *

Dinner was just Varric, Garret, and Cullen, Anders bowing out with a nervous look on his face that said he was a bit done with people, and most definitely done with the Chant of Light.

Anders would probably shove earplugs in his ears to avoid hearing the Chant of Light (and even _Cullen_ was getting a little tired of the way it seemed to hover in the air everywhere and it was just…it took _over a fortnight_ to finish and then they just _repeated_ it and he was a good Andrastian but this seemed a bit much) the moment he got into his apartment and go to sleep early while petting the head of the tabby cat figurine Cullen had given him.

So, they are having dinner in some out of the way _local_ (nothing in Orlais is a ‘hole in the wall’ like The Hanged Man, though Cullen doubts anything could be like The Hanged Man) place and it has a friendly atmosphere, not a mask in sight.

He does not understand Orlesian fashion in the slightest.

They order their food, Varric and Cullen talk about Kirkwall and Cullen pretends not to notice that Garret isn’t participating in the conversation or that withdrawal is already starting with the tiny tremors in his fingers.

Varric is trying to keep Cullen from observing Garret, which tells Cullen a great deal about how Garret was _before_ they left Kirkwall, if Varric is still in ‘keep people from paying attention to Garret’ mode.

“I hadn’t known you were bi Curly,” Varric stated after their food has been served and Cullen looked up from his steak with a frown while Garret looked over at Cullen, rough black stubble around his beard telling Cullen Garret was probably just getting to the quarter point of a low.

Varric hated calling them episodes, but there would be times where Garret suddenly…just stopped. He had to be, gently (or not so gently when Fenris did anything), prodded to eat, dress…everything. He once said it was like he woke up and everything that made him _him_ had been scooped out.

When it got _really_ bad, Garret had flashes of temper that were frightening in their viciousness, violent almost. A lightning spell that hit a primed Gaatlok barrel.

Looking at him now, Cullen nearly sighed when he saw the bags under his eyes that stood out starkly against Garret’s pale skin (paler than it should be, meaning he was hiding the fact he wasn’t eating or drinking from everyone _again_ ), realizing that a bad _low_ , probably set off by all the shit in Kirkwall (and Anders coming with Cullen instead of staying behind in Kirkwall) was the cause of it.

It would also explain why he was pushing his pasta around instead of eating it.

“I’m not bi, I’m straight,” Cullen said slowly, feeling the spot between his eyebrows wrinkle as he tried to figure out why Varric thought that he was bi.

Not that he cared, but Varric had known him for a while, before _all_ the shit had hit the fan and he was deemed a ‘rogue Templar’ and things got messy and maybe exploded a little.

Varric waved his hand in the vague direction of the White Spire. “You threatened to sic Waffles on me for that guy so I would sign a few books for him!” he exclaimed.

“ _Waffles_! This wonderful being right here,” he continued as he reached out to place a large hand on Garret’s upper arm.

It got a small smile from Garret, and Cullen itched to call some of their other friends, but knew it wouldn’t help in the long run.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Cullen wanted to hit their friends upside the head.

“He’s a friend,” Cullen answered in the same slow tone.

“Do you _always_ go so far out of your way for your friends?” Varric asked, crossing his arms slightly and Cullen frowned a little before he shrugged.

He had never done this for any of his friends, the few he had. They had never needed him to.

Garret and his group had been more Garret’s friends than Cullen’s. With the exception of Merrill, everyone else had thought poorly of him, right up until Merrill had, somehow, managed to drag him, bleeding and barely conscious, from where he had left nearly for dead close the Alienage to Anders’s Clinic in Darktown.

He still doesn’t remember most of that night, but he woke up in Anders’s Clinic with Fenris sitting next to him, glaring at the door. Then he had a sword pointed at him and Fenris threatening to kill him if he ever hid how bad things were among the Templars again.

Cullen shrugged.

“I’ve never had to before. All of my other friends have others that do that. Like you and Garret,” he answered with a small shrug.

“What about me and Varric?” Garret asked.

“You two do with each other like I did with Maxwell. But Maxwell…I don’t think he has anyone else? He talks about his baby sister, sometimes. Rarely. Almost never. No one else visits him and I’ve been visiting him every day barring the two weeks he couldn’t have visitors. You two have other people too. I’m not entirely sure Maxwell has anyone else. So if I can help, even when I’m not there…Maker, it does sound like we are dating, but it doesn’t _feel_ that way,” Cullen answered and Varric nodded while Garret actually took a bite of his pasta.

“Yeah, I get that,” Varric stated and Cullen nodded as he focused on his steak while Garret poked at his food till Varric prodded at him to eat another bite.

When they parted for the night, Cullen walked only far enough away to know they would be walking away too and turned back around.

He watched as they walked down the pedestrian road to their hotel Varric keeping one hand on Garret’s arm as they walked, and Cullen kept an eye on them until they were out of sight.

Only then did he pull his coat more around him and turned on his heel to walk to Anders’s apartment.

* * *

Cullen shook his head a little when he saw the passed out Anders on the couch, the Chant now starting to give him a headache as well.

He headed to the bathroom, cell phone in hand and he hesitated before he frowned and pocketed it.

It wasn’t his right to call up Maxwell and he wasn’t going to start. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand before he sighed, crouching on the cold tile floor and sighing as he rested his head on his knees.

He stayed like that till Anders shuffled in and sat next to him, resting his head on Cullen’s shoulder.

Cullen let out a shaky laugh and shook his head a little.

“And so it begins. Fuck,” he whispered and Anders gently rubbed his forehead against Cullen’s shoulder, much like a cat seeking affection.

Cullen didn’t hesitate to reach over and ruffle his hair slightly in response.


	5. Chapter Five: Victorious Age 21:37 Firstfall 24 to 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Hinted at child abuse

“You can stay,” Maxwell said the next day when Cullen entered the room in time to nearly run into Spirit Healer Amery, who was about to close the curtain to help give Maxwell privacy.

It was later in the afternoon, especially for a Tuesday, than usual as Cullen had gotten caught in talking about the last of the paperwork at the Chantry and he may or may not have had a sudden, raging, screaming fit that Anders had to talk him down from. He had been so horrified with himself and had to sit down, shaking viciously as they showed him his _living options_.

Even though a part of him had just wanted to go back to Anders’s apartment, he had never skipped visiting with Maxwell, no matter what, but he usually left _before_ Maxwell’s bandages were changed, instead of coming when they were to be changed.

Spirit Healer Amery hesitated and Maxwell focused on her. “He can stay,” he repeated and she nodded, waiting for Cullen to step into the room to finish closing the curtain before she returned to Maxwell’s side as Maxwell turned his left palm up.

The bandages were unwrapped and the gauze, with only splotches of blood on it, was removed to reveal the cuts.

In the center of his palm is something like a wheel, but with hearts at the end of the spokes instead of a rim, and around the symbol, with a small space around it, was the old symbol for the Circle of Magic, a bit like a cuff, the open ‘tail’ ending between the two ‘bumps’ at the heel of the hand. They were red, like they were inflamed, but Cullen’s looked like that too.

It was just a side effect of the ritual being interrupted.

Spirit Healer Amery investigated the cuts, carefully and sighed. “I want to see if leaving them to the air will help. There have barely been bleeding lately,” she stated and Maxwell nodded slightly and then Spirit Healer Amery untied the back of the gown Maxwell still wore to reveal a torso, plus arms, completely wrapped in bandages, bandages at the joint of the shoulder.

She hesitated and Maxwell sighed as he looked over at Cullen. “You _want_ to stay?” Maxwell asked and Cullen shrugged.

“If I get uncomfortable, or you do, I’ll leave,” Cullen answered and Maxwell nodded.

Spirit Healer Amery nodded back and continued to unwrap the next set of bandages.

Two finger widths down from the heel of the palm, carefully cut chains began, up the soft underside of his forearm, around on the inside joint of the elbow instead of across the soft inside of the elbow (which made Cullen thankful, because what he was seeing had to be painful enough), along his bicep and over his shoulder. At his collarbone, two ‘links’ split off to create two different chains, Spirit Amery quickly unwrapping the bandages to reveal that the chain along the front went to the same spot on his other shoulder to reveal that his right side mimicked his back, while a third ‘chain’ dropped down his sternum, splitting just above his belly button to connect to what were about his hips and Cullen could guess that a chain matched down his spine.

“And that’s my cue. Sorry Maxwell, I don’t know you that well yet,” Cullen stated and Maxwell laughed as Cullen left quietly.

Outside of the door, he stood there and breathed through his nose and out his mouth. He remembered his two. Just two. One on each forearm.

He walked away, paced back, remembered the words, about how they _all_ opened up because a _malificarum_ was on the fucking floor and Cullen wants to punch something.

He wants to punch something until he feels better, but he knows that won’t do anything.

 _“Someone else’s trauma doesn’t negate yours,”_ his psychiatrist after Kinloch Hold had said when Cullen had tried to say what had happened to him wasn’t something to get upset over.

Cullen buried his hands in his hair and leaned against the wall next to the entrance to the room.

Shortly after getting that piece of advice he had been shipped straight into Kirkwall.

He had wanted to leave then, but refused to leave the city-state to its fate, so he had joined the resistance and left the Templars once he had been cleared on charges of desertion.

He stayed there, pacing a little when he felt the need until Spirit Healer Amery stepped out. “I’ve left them open to the air,” she warned before she walked off and Cullen quickly reentered Maxwell’s room and smiled upon seeing the man in a chair instead of on the bed.

Here he could see the way ‘chains’ ran up the outside of both of his legs, starting two finger widths above his ankle, and Cullen noted that Maxwell’s feet had those slipper socks on them. “Chess?” Cullen asked and Maxwell waved to the board with a soft chuckle.

* * *

Cullen would be leaving to go home (to Kirkwall, not Fereldan, to his friends, not his sister, but Mia had been surprisingly forgiving on the front, so long as he swore to call) on the first of Haring, which was only two days away.

He wanted to argue against it, get an apartment in Orlais, but he wouldn’t get better staying here and Anders was really starting to chafe under the constant Chantry everywhere.

At least Maxwell was allowed in the common area now, even if he had to be pushed around in a wheelchair, confirming Cullen’s theory that there were cuts on the bottom of Maxwell’s feet.

He had a bathrobe on and a blanket over his legs to help hide the fact he was still wearing a gown, though also helping to hide all of his cuts. He was adjusting his gestures so no one could see the cuts on his palms and Cullen foresaw constant gloves in Maxwell’s future.

“Maxwell Trevelyan?” a voice called and Maxwell looked up.

“Yes?” he answered and Cullen followed Maxwell’s gaze in time to watch as a young red-headed human Spirit Healer in Training glanced over her shoulder before she hurried over to him.

“You have two guests. The man says he’s Alexander Trevelyan, your younger brother and…that the little girl he’s holding is your baby sister?” she explained and Cullen had never seen someone go from apathetic to overjoyed in two seconds.

“Where is she?” he asked and the Spirit Healer in Training immediately turned and waved her hand.

When Cullen had heard ‘baby sister’ he had, in his mind, someone older. Maybe a pre-teen, at youngest.

The four year old girl with skin only a shade darker than Maxwell’s own warm brown skin (and that might be from a different ‘tone’ than Maxwell’s, something Cullen only knew through osmosis from being raised by those who loved make-up and fashion) ran up, white hair in a braid down her back and Maxwell didn’t hesitate to scoop her up into his lap.

The girl beamed up at Maxwell and buried herself into his embrace. “Being stationed in Ostwick had its high points,” he stated with a grin as he hugged Fortunata and Alexander, who was a paler brown than Maxwell, looking more tanned white, but with Maxwell’s brown hair, sat down on a nearby chair.

“Fortunata, this is my friend Cullen. We met here. Cullen, this is my baby sister, Fortunata, named for our mother’s favorite aunt, and our great-aunt because she looks almost like her identical twin,” Maxwell introduced with a grin and Fortunata peeked out at Cullen.

“She was born after I got stationed at Ostwick. Since I wasn’t, technically, leaving my post, I got to see her quite a bit. Till…everything,” Maxwell answered and grinned as she turned in his lap and stared at Cullen, who held his hand out to her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Trevelyan,” Cullen stated and she grinned at him as she shook his hand, then pointed at the chessboard.

“ _Lady_ Trevelyan,” Alexander corrected and Cullen twitched as Maxwell turned his head to glare at Alexander, who flinched back.

“Fortunata is fine,” Maxwell stated and focused on Fortunata, who was hiding against Maxwell’s chest once more.

“You want to play against Cullen?” Maxwell asked and Fortunata nodded.

“All right,” Maxwell stated and moved closer to the board, where she slowly turned around to stare at the board.

Maxwell waved his hand at the board, earning another flinch from Alexander. Maxwell rolled his eyes and smiled at the top of Fortunata’s head. “Which move?” he asked and Fortunata immediately tried to move the Queen’s Mage through the pawns.

“Mages can’t go through pawns,” Maxwell reminded her softly and she huffed, before she moved the pawn first.

Cullen chuckled and moved against her as Alexander watched the board. “Father here?” Maxwell asked far too calmly.

“He’s in the city proper. Not sure why. He told me to bring Fortunata up here for a visit,” Alexander answered just as calmly.

Cullen wasn’t touching that until Alexander was gone. “Only _Knights_ can go through the pieces Fortunata, not Mages,” Maxwell stated as she tried to move the Mage though pawns again and he smiled when Fortunata tugged at his robe, making him lean down slightly so she could whisper (and it was truly whispering, which made Cullen realize that she hadn’t _once_ spoken) into his ear.

He chuckled at what she said and nodded a little. “It is true, I _can_ move through things. However, the rules of chess are as they are and not _all_ mages can move through things. But a Knight can jump over them because, in the days of horses, they had horses whereas most of those before them did not. And a horse could probably clear a person, given enough room and enough training. And the person didn’t move,” Maxwell answered and Fortunata made a face which had Maxwell nodding sagely.

“Exactly,” he stated and Fortunata moved the King’s Knight to take one of Cullen’s pawns.

Cullen took her knight with his own pawn. Fortunata clapped her hands and Maxwell didn’t offer any advice.

Cullen trounced the four year old and he would have felt guilty, except Fortunata was grinning like she won.

“All right, what color do you want?” Maxwell asked as Alexander leaned back and stared at the TV in the distance while Fortunata turned the board so she could take white.

* * *

“Your sister is younger than I was expecting,” Cullen stated as Alexander carried the waving Fortunata down to a waiting _limo_.

“I figured,” Maxwell stated as he waved back.

“You’re a noble?” Cullen questioned.

“I’ll explain in my room, if you want to push me up there,” Maxwell added and Cullen chuckled.

“All right,” Cullen stated and carefully gripped the wheelchair as he backed away from the doorway as the limo pulled away.

* * *

Maxwell sighed as he sat in the chair instead of the bed and Cullen pushed the wheelchair out of the way before he dragged the chair over to sit across from Maxwell, who sighed and ran a hand over his head. “I’m…noble-born, not a noble. At 18, my father cut me out of the line of inheritance because I refused to join the Chantry the way he wanted me to. I wasn’t Andrastian before that point, and I joined the Circle Mages partially because that was the only way I was going to get to go to school. When I was assigned to the Ostwick Templar Order and visiting my family to tell them that, I was 22 years old and I was meeting Alexander for the first time as he was born when I was eleven, and I was shipped off to a magical boarding school at age six. I was told to eat with the servants and they all expected me to become an abomination at a drop of a hat and I was told, to my face, I was an ‘abomination in the eyes of the Maker and our Benevolent Lady’ and I didn’t see them again except for holidays,” Maxwell explained and gave a soft, humorless, chuckle as Cullen stared at him.

“Four years ago, on All-Soul’s Day, right as my mother was praying for her favorite aunt, my Great-Aunt Fortunata, she went into labor. Thus, my sister was born, when my mother was 48 years old, and was named as labor started right then. Lady Bann Trevelyan thought it a ‘sign from Andraste’. When…when Fortunata was just starting to talk, she never stopped,” Maxwell explained as he looked up at Cullen and Cullen bit back the urge to punch something.

That sounded nothing like the little girl who had only whispered in Maxwell’s ear.

“The next time I saw her, she said three words to me. I love you. She didn’t talk, otherwise. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t…” Maxwell said and cut himself as he looked away sharply as the thick scent of _Storm_ magic began to fill the air.

Cullen glanced down at Maxwell’s clenched hands, the way the lightning sparked around them before it faded away, slowly, with each deep breath Maxwell took. “They hurt her. And that’s when I started hating them. You need to care, to feel anything as passionate as hate or love. I didn’t care, till Fortunata really. She…she was too young for all that hate, I figured, and I was there when she was born. Felt responsible for her and I left her with them and they hurt her. So, I hate them, because they hurt my baby sister,” Maxwell finished and closed his eyes before he let out a long, sharp, breath.

Cullen hesitated and then leaned forward, gently resting his hands over Maxwell’s. “Is she a Mage?” Cullen asked and Maxwell shrugged.

“No idea. Really likes magic though,” Maxwell answered.

“Might end up being one, might not. Magic shows up between ages 6 and 10 on average. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later,” Maxwell explained and Cullen, carefully, squeezed Maxwell’s hands, surprised when Maxwell’s hands turned to gently squeeze Cullen’s hands.

“Thanks for listening,” Maxwell whispered.

“No trouble,” Cullen answered.

They sat like that till visiting hours ended.


	6. Chapter Six: Victorious Age 21:37 Haring 1 to Victorious Age 21:38 Wintermarch 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Flashbacks, Emetophobia (When Samson shows up)

Cullen didn’t hesitate to take a step forward to support some of Maxwell’s weight as the man stood up from the wheelchair, surprised to see that Maxwell was actually slightly taller than him.

He was shaking and Cullen let out a soft ‘oof’ when Maxwell half fell on him as he hugged Cullen. Cullen hugged the man back, one arm wrapped around Maxwell’s lower back, in case he had to catch Maxwell mostly, while the other wrapped diagonally across Maxwell’s upper back. “Be safe,” Maxwell stated.

“You too. And I’ll actually call. Or e-mail,” Cullen stated and Maxwell nodded a little before he buried his face into Cullen’s shoulder, tightened the hug.

He kept up the hug as Maxwell clung to him.

Eventually, however, Cullen helped Maxwell sit down in the wheelchair, feeling him nearly shake out of his skin. He, gently, squeezed Maxwell’s wrists and smiled at him.

“I’ll call,” Cullen promised and Maxwell nodded slowly.

Cullen stood, grabbed his bag and hauled it over his shoulder, walking over to where Anders was waiting, in a new pair of boots. “Ready?” Anders asked.

Cullen took a deep breath and nodded.

* * *

It was a mistake to come back to Kirkwall.

Cullen realizes this after the third time he turns a corner, going to Anders’s Clinic in Darktown, and he finds himself not in the present, but in the past.

It has been in the background, thinking he smells buildings (and worse) burning. It wasn’t as bad in The White Spire, but then again, he was still on lyrium there. It had a way of dulling everything and making it impossible to process what happened.

However, right now, there is shadow and fires burning and he--

A cool wash of magic, tinted with the Spirit of Justice, flowed over him and Cullen blinked rapidly to find himself staring at Anders. It is as bright as it ever gets in Darktown, which isn’t that bright, but not the shadows he had seen either. Here, where the reconstruction has yet to begin, and where any who have less than legal connections thrive, and those who have nowhere else to go live, there is blood and smoke still in the air.

Cullen shook violently and flinched slightly when Anders, gently, touched his hand. “Cullen, today is the Twelfth of Haring, the year 37 of the Victorious Age,” Anders stated and Cullen nodded.

“I know,” he croaked out and Anders gripped his hand before he began walking again, deeper into Darktown and where his clinic still stood, surprisingly untouched.

Or not so surprising, considering Anders helped people for free and Varric paid people off to leave him alone.

Cullen inhaled sharply as he stepped into the clinic and had to cling to Anders’s hand to keep himself in the present.

He should not have come back to Kirkwall.

* * *

Cullen frowned as he sat down for a break during the reconstruction efforts (his mouth was dry, his hands were shaking, the withdrawal was horrific today and he had to change the bandages on his forearms twice due to _the blood mage he knew nothing about_ using magic within a certain radius of him) when he realized his phone was ringing with a new number.

“Hello?” he greeted.

“Hello Cullen.” Maxwell greeted and Cullen relaxed.

“New number?” he questioned.

“Cell phone. I’ve been moved off-site for the rest of my recovery period, which I hope is quick,” Maxwell answered.

“Oh?” Cullen questioned.

“I have a job interview in the city-state of Skyhold, the one that borders Orlais and Fereldan, the poor souls,” Maxwell explained and Cullen felt himself grin.

“For what job?” Cullen asked.

“Coordinator for the Skyhold Museum Cultural Center. It is basically the place where all the fine and performing arts classes and lectures are held, along with a community theater, with a focus on after-school programs. Apparently, when I sent in my application, my insistence that I would increase local after-school programs made them quite happy to hear me out,” Maxwell responded.

“That’s-” Cullen answered when something shattered, cutting him off.

He felt the hand slip from numb fingers as he threw himself back, scrambling for a sword that wasn’t there. There was…that feeling, of being pressed in on all sides. There was a fight, in Low Town, the shattering was the window and he panted heavily, sweat pouring down him as he tried to get to his sword, it ha-…

The wash of magic made him shiver and he whined, high and thin, reedy in a way that made him yank his head back, trying to get away. He shoved and pushed, gasping for air, and…

“Cullen! It isn’t happening! It is the Fifteenth of Haring, in the year 37! Cullen!” Maxwell shouted, his voice calm if strained, and Cullen gasped like a drowning man breaking surface.

“Cullen, whatever you think is happening, whenever you think you are, you’re here, in the present! On the Fifteenth of Haring! You are in Kirkwall though, and I am in Orlais,” Maxwell continued as Cullen felt tears slipping down his face.

He blinked a few times, at the bright sunshine and shivered violently before he held his hand out.

The phone was given back and a few stabs later, it was no longer on speaker phone.

“Baby sister,” he managed to get out and he heard Maxwell breathing heavily.

“Fortunata likes to play chess so she can try and make me change the rules. She thinks the fact Mages can’t go through pieces is stupid because she once watched me Fade Shift through one of our cousins. He was fine, I threw a Barrier around him as well. She loves animals. Her favorite color is green, because she’ll always pick that color when allowed to choose her clothes. She hates the color white and I’m still not entirely sure why, but I think it might be because it matches her hair. After meeting you she learned about Mabari and now she wants to know how they came into being. She feels this way about Halla as well, however, mainly due to the fact she thinks they may be smarter than people, and I don’t think she’s wrong,” Maxwell began to rattle off as Cullen curled up tighter, breathing through the vice that was his chest, burying his fingers in his hair.

Maxwell didn’t stop talking about Fortunata, only pausing to remind him of the date, until Cullen responded to him.

* * *

“Can’t sleep?” Maxwell murmured softly over the phone.

“Everything takes me back,” Cullen stated softly as he curled up on the bed, pressing the phone to his ear a little tighter.

“Yeah,” Maxwell responded quietly and breathing filled the air.

“White Queen’s Pawn to…D-4,” Maxwell stated and Cullen laughed before he sat up.

“One moment, I need to set up a board,” he stated and quickly found a chess board.

It didn’t have all the pieces, but he improvised and moved Maxwell’s piece. “Queen’s Pawn to D-5,” Cullen answered.

The game went on, Maxwell’s voice quiet, sometimes needing a quick reminder which piece was where, but they finished the game just as Anders got up to start his daily routine.

“Good?” Maxwell asked softly.

“Yes, good,” Cullen responded and they exchange quick good-byes before Cullen hung up.

* * *

Cullen chuckled softly as he ran his thumb along the condensation on his glass of beer while watching Fenris and Isabela have a drinking contest. “I’m laying odds Isabela puts him flat on his back,” Varric stated as he slid into a chair next to Cullen.

“Sucker’s bet,” Cullen murmured as he took a sip of the beer.

The Hanged Man, or any bar or pub really, was the least likely to set him off into a flashback. It made him irritated, that he couldn’t really do much to help.

He almost sent a man to Anders’s Clinic yesterday because the man had startled Cullen by _moving too fast_. He had to be reminded, constantly, that it was expected and often had the date repeated to him until he was sure that they were all sick of it.

“And yet people take it. How you holding up Curly?” Varric asked.

“I’m exhausted, shaking, and I should probably not be drinking, but on the bright side, Maker preserve me for saying it, I haven’t had a flashback today,” Cullen answered and Varric laughed a little.

“Twenty-first of Haring. We should make it an anniversary,” Varric stated, tipping his bottle to Cullen.

Cullen didn’t hesitate to tap his glass to the neck of Varric’s bottle before he took another sip. “And I wouldn’t really call what you’re doing drinking. Now, what Broody and Rivani are doing? _That’s_ drinking,” Varric added as a cheer went up from the drinking contest as Fenris finished off another shot of…something.

Cullen snorted softly and shook his head when he saw Garret lean over to whisper something in Fenris’s ear that actually made the lyrium-tattooed Elf duck his head slightly. Isabela pointed a finger at Fenris, which only had Fenris ignoring it to instead focus on getting more alcohol in his system.

* * *

Cullen shook his head as he set his, now empty, glass on the table, putting a tip next to it, as Isabela stood balanced between her chair and the table, flexing her arms in victory. She also took the time to pose and Merrill had a flush to her face visible from where Cullen was sitting, even under the…Dalish tattoos.

He would need to ask her again what they were called and he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck before he began to head out.

He shivered as the cold air hit him full in the face, before he turned and began to make his way to Darktown and Anders’s Clinic.

Every shadow could be a threat and he hunched in on himself slightly, his coat hitting his ears as he walked, regulating his breathing. The shadows were just sha-…

Cullen’s shout of surprise was cut off as he was sent to the ground, the air driven from his lungs as his head smacked against the cobblestones. He began to fight, one booted foot catching one of his assailants in the gut.

His head was swimming and there was pain behind his eyes, but he didn’t care as he began to twist, driving his elbow into his second assailant while he tried to get to the third. He coughed as he was slammed into again by the third and he saw a flash of red and he knew that face.

One of his fellow Templars and he heaved as the man, Charlton, drove his elbow into Cullen’s stomach. He began to scrabble, even as they got on him and Cullen began to pant and Charlton was suddenly thrown off of Cullen. Cullen twisted, and there was a rushing in his ears as he began to _fight_.

He didn’t hear the second assailant’s nose break, but he felt it do so under his forehead and smelled the blood. He twisted and was on his feet, shaking and his throat was dry, hurting in a way that said he might have been screaming.

That he might still be screaming, but he wasn’t sure and his hands hurt and he shook violently, flinching when a hand touched him. “…It is the twenty-first of Haring and you’re on your way to Darktown, you idiot. You were walking and some assholes decided to jump you as if you were to blame and not nutty Meredith. Twenty-first of Haring and I’m the one who saved your arse, Cully,” a voice, familiar and somewhat welcome and Cullen shook his head a little before he focused on the figure, the dark hair and too pale skin, dressed in clothes fixed with a shaking hand.

“Samson?” Cullen asked and the man, the ex-Templar, grinned.

“Cully, you do remember me! Good, they didn’t knock your head too bad. Can I come close?” he asked and Cullen nodded a little before he doubled over and heaved, everything he had eaten and drunk coming up.

“Easy there, Cully,” Samson soothed, rubbing his back carefully as Cullen dry heaved.

“Easy there,” he continued to murmur as Cullen heard someone shouting his name.

* * *

“On the bright side, none of them need to go to visit a healer,” Samson stated as he laid a cold cloth over the back of Cullen’s neck.

Cullen swallowed convulsively and Samson rubbed his back again.

Coming back to The Hanged Man after just leaving, and then promptly being attacked by ex-Templars, had not been what Cullen particularly wanted to do, but accepted it. In this case, it was the wiser course of action.

“Not really much of one,” Garret stated and Cullen grunted a little as he looked up slightly to find Garret crouching in front of him.

“You good?” Garret asked and Cullen gave an affirmative hand motion before he dropped his gaze back to the floor.

“What brings you back to Kirkwall Samson?” Varric asked idly.

“Never left, I just kept to Darktown. But _they_ did come back. Saw them get lead in, talking about getting revenge as they were being lead. I thought it was against Hawke here at first and was looking forward to watching them die slowly and painfully for even thinking about touching any member of the Hawke family. I figured out it was Cully around the time they mentioned that they were going to put him in his place. As if they hadn’t brought down the dishonorable discharge onto their own heads,” Samson stated and Cullen coughed.

“What about you?” Cullen asked and Samson grunted a little.

“Not all of us got cleared of treason. I just let it go. Easier in the long run. Besides, my paperwork was over all the quicker for it,” Samson stated and Cullen sighed.

“You didn’t do anything wrong Samson,” Cullen argued quietly.

“Didn’t try to help either. Being neutral is the same as being an instigator of injustice. I mean, if Meredith didn’t put Spirit Healers to you, you’d _literally_ ,” Samson began to argue, only to get cut off when Cullen kicked him, lightly.

No one needed to know about the extent of it.

“Please tell me he’s seeing someone,” Samson stated and Cullen blinked as Garret’s gloved hand came to rest on his knee.

“He will be,” Garret promised and Cullen gave Garret a quick smile.

* * *

Cullen stared at the psychologist and then back at his lap.

“Why did you come back to Kirkwall?” he asked and Cullen looked back up at the Dwarf.

“I don’t know,” Cullen lied.

He knew.

He had returned to Kirkwall because he wasn’t sure he would fit in anywhere else, only to discover that he didn’t fit in at Kirkwall either.

He resolved to find a new psychologist, or something, tomorrow.

* * *

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” Cullen asked once Maxwell answered his cell phone.

“Yes,” Maxwell responded.

“Sorry. It is just…I felt…I thought…I was hoping that if I helped, I could…” Cullen tried to explain before he stopped with a sigh.

“I had hoped that I could belong again,” Cullen finished.

“That’s frustrating,” Maxwell stated.

Cullen laughed and covered his face with his free hand as it turned into crying.

* * *

“You have a wish for First Day’s Eve?” Anders asked as he sat next to Cullen.

“Yes. Do you?” Cullen answered.

“Yes. Two, actually, but one of them won’t come true,” Anders answered.

Before Cullen could ask, the first firework shot up to announce the beginning of a new year.

Cullen flinched and his head snapped up, slowly realizing that it was just fireworks. He looked over when Anders touched his shoulder and he raised an eyebrow at Anders. “May I follow the Anderfels First Day tradition?” Anders asked and Cullen nodded.

Anders lips are cool and chapped against his cheek, not pressing and Anders pulled away slightly to smile at him. “May the 38th Year of the Victorious Age be better than the last Cullen,” Anders stated and he looked back up at the fireworks.

“May the 38th Year of the Victorious Age be better than the last for you as well Anders,” Cullen answered as Kirkwall, broken but healing, began to celebrate the start of a new year of the Victorious Age.

**Author's Note:**

> No, this is not a romance between Cullen and Maxwell. I just amuse myself with things like that.


End file.
